


Leather

by Tophats_and_Teacups



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:22:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25813486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tophats_and_Teacups/pseuds/Tophats_and_Teacups
Summary: Eighth Year, Hermione Granger gets into a spot of trouble, and needs help getting out of it. The only problem: she doesn't want anyone to get the wrong idea about her. So she seeks help from Draco Malfoy, the only person in the school who's opinion of her won't bother her. Can he help, and will he get under her skin while he tries?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 29
Kudos: 359





	1. Act 01

Hermione snuck down the corridor, feeling a sense of deja-vu as she crept on muffled feet toward the corner and peeked around. Unlike her previous school years, however, she wasn’t sneaking around against the rules. She was trying to catch the rulebreakers. A nice change of pace, and it kept her busy from focusing on her troubled sleep. 

The whispering voices caught her ear before she could see anyone, and she pulled back slightly, watching the couple disappear into a broom closet. She rushed around the corner, pulled her wand free from her robes, and stood in front of the closet, straightening her robes and spine, putting on a stern face before she whipped the door open, and stepped inside, blocking the exit. 

“Alright you lot, you’ve been caught.” She rushed the words out, but her next prepared sentence died on her lips as she looked around the room. This wasn’t a broom closet. It was the size of a classroom, and was filled with obvious contraband. She had an instant flash of memory to the Room of Requirement and it’s room full of hidden things. This was NOT that room, not nearly as big, and the Room itself had been destroyed by Crabbe’s Fiendfyre. But the room before her most definitely contended for most surprising thing she’d seen this year. 

“We don’t know what any of this stuff is, we were sleepwalking and stumbled on this room, we swear!” The guilty boy who stepped forward wore the green crest of Slytherin, and she scanned behind him, catching sight of the Ravenclaw blue in the light cast from her wand. 

“Twenty points from Slytherin and Ravenclaw both for being out of bed after hours.” She retorted, not bothering to argue against his obvious lies. The girl was buttoning her shirt nervously, obviously nowhere near sleepwalking. “Another ten for your inappropriate attire.” She snapped as the boy started to wave his arms and try to negate her ruling. He’d find that if he argued, he would just lose them more points. She took her duties seriously, and wouldn’t be bought off by anything he was offering. 

“Back to bed, and if I catch you out again tonight it’ll be a fifty more points each.” She dismissed them, not bothering to issue a detention. The room before her begged more attention at the moment. As the couple rushed from the room fuming, she could see just on top of the piles a stack of Fred and George’s magical fireworks, and the pink glow of a love potion. Best to get this mess cleared up as soon as possible before it got back into the hands that’d snuck it in. She’d need help, but she’d need to know how much help. She stepped past a small desk laden with the fireworks, and peered around the rest of the room, inspecting the paraphernalia, and judging just who she’d need to inform. Most of it seemed to be simple toys, pranks, dungbombs, nothing too dark. She nudged a paper bag with her foot, casting a shield charm just in case. Nothing happened, so she nudged it again. Still, nothing. 

“What’ve you got in you?” She bent down, and poked it with her wand, testing one final time before she grabbed it, and turned it over, emptying the contents onto the floor. A dull slap echoed around her as leather hit stone, and she stared in confusion at the black and silver… well... whatever it was. It looked like a few strips of leather, held together by buckles, and had netting tangled through it. Was it some kind of fishing gear? She reached out and lifted the largest piece of leather, unfolded it, and nearly gasped as she realized just what it was. 

She was holding a leather bodice, buckles connected it to other bits of the leather and netting, and she dropped it in horror. It was an OUTFIT? Who in their right mind would wear that? She was definitely going to need to scrub her hands after touching it. She gave it one final glare, muttered ‘gross’, and turned to get out of there before she discovered anything else so vulgar. She managed one step, but her other foot was caught. She turned, tugging experimentally, not sure what in Merlin’s name it could be caught ON. That damn mass of leather was tangled around her ankle, and she growled at it. 

The leather wrapped tighter, moving like a snake up her leg as she tried to shake it off, fear filling her thoughts as she was attacked. 

“No. Nononono, stop that!” She shouted at it futilely, bending to try and pull it away from her. It shot out like a bullet, latching onto her arm, and slithering its way under her clothes. She grunted in frustration, clawing at it as it encroached along her skin, surrounding her arms, wrapping under her skirt, latching around her waist, and bound her chest. Her legs tickled as the netting slid over them, covering her legs in a diamond pattern that disappeared beneath her socks, and curled around her toes. 

Finally, it slowed, all but stopping as the only bit left moving was crawling up her shoulders, and wrapped around her throat. She snatched at it in a panic, terrified it was going to cut her air off, but it, too, settled into place and stopped moving. She froze, breathing heavily, and looked down at herself. She could feel it, cool against her skin, and underneath every other bit she wore. She shifted her legs, and blushed furiously as she realized it was between her legs like underwear. Very revealing underwear. It was snug, but not quite uncomfortably tight, though the feel of the leather squeezing her chest made her pull her shirt away, so she could look down her blouse. Underneath, it had formed half a bodice, enough to push her breasts up obscenely, but not enough to squish them flat. Thanks to this piece of hell, she had more cleavage than she’d ever had before. It looked to have buckles, and she unbuttoned her blouse completely, looking them over, and trying to unclasp them. They stuck, refusing to open. She tried her wand, muttering ‘Alohomora’, but instead of unlocking the buckles, the leather seemed to soak in the magic, and convert it, sending tingling jolts through the edges of the ensemble. She tried ‘Diffindo’, and nearly yelped with the force of the reaction. It had shocked her! What sort of dark magic…? 

She felt around her neck, feeling another buckle that denied her freedom. She could see the netting encasing her legs, revealed along the previously bare expanse of skin between her skirt and stockings. The uppermost strap of leather was visible above her shirt-collar, and she grumbled to herself, thinking quickly. It was dark, and she was surrounded by other possibly dangerous items. She needed to get word of this room to the Headmistress, and get this _thing_ off, as soon as possible. She could do both in her room. But if she left, and someone saw the weird leather under her clothes, she’d be mortified. She gathered her robes round her, covering herself from ankles to chin, held them in place, and marched from the room keeping her head high. If she looked ready to kill, no one would look too hard at her. She cast several locking and warding charms on the door, making sure it would remain undisturbed in her absence, and made her way to the Eighth Year dormitories. They’d been given their own dorms, as the Houses couldn’t fit the extra year. They also wore different robes. All black, in mourning of those lost from their class, with white ties and sweater accents to signify the recent peace. Instead of House emblems on their robes, they displayed the Hogwarts crest. They’d also been given extra duties, as honorary prefects to help keep order as the postwar exuberance took hold. 

Hermione had enjoyed getting back into her school role, despite the absence of her two best friends, but after tonight, she was seething, and rethinking her extra duties. This was too far. She was already falling behind in her classes due to her inability to sleep, and this was not going to be conducive to studying before bed tonight. She had no idea how long this would take to remove, but she’d cut the damn thing off if she had to. 

“Eighth Year, Hermione Granger.” She snapped to the large statue of Merlin that guarded their common room. It kept the underage witches and wizards out of their lounge, and away from the sometimes volatile mix of previously Housed students. There were only two Slytherins in the bunch, but those two seemed to cause more waves than the giant squid. As the Statue stepped off his pedestal to let her through, she rechecked her appearance. Legs and neck both covered, she marched through the thick wooden door, and right past the lounge, to her own private room. That was another perk they’d gotten. Since there were so few of them, instead of being forced to share rooms, they’d been given their own, four per floor, two boys and two girls on each level, for a total of twelve students. She locked the door behind her, cast a repelling ward, and began to shed her uniform. She tossed her clothes to the bed, and set to work trying to pry the buckles apart, and pull the leather down her arms. \- 

Two hours later, she fell back with a defeated scream of frustration, her room a mess of different tools and transfigured objects. Nothing had worked. Not even the netting could be cut! Whatever impervious charm had been cast on it had been done well, for she’d tried every single scrap of leather she could, and none of it had given an inch. None of the magic she’d cast had worked either, instead sending jolts of sensation across her skin that related to the severity of the spell. She was loathe to admit it, but she needed help. She turned over name after name in her mind, trying to think of who would be ideal to seek assistance from. She was sure Professor McGonagall would have ideas on how to get it off her, but… She didn’t want to let the Headmistress see her in such shameful attire. She’d never look at her the same again, even if she said it was an accident. That’s what anyone would say. All of her teachers and friends were the same, except that they didn’t have the experience with dark objects necessary to help. She needed someone well versed in Defense Against the Dark Arts, someone who she wouldn't care what they thought of her afterward. 

“Hermione, are you okay in there? We heard screaming?” Parvati’s voice called through her door, making Hermione sit up, and gather the blanket over herself, despite the locks. 

“I’m fine! I’m just having a hard time with… Arithmancy!” she called out, thinking quickly. Silence followed, and she relaxed, letting go of the blanket. If any one of her classmates saw her right now, they’d think she’d gone mad. She snatched up her wand and waved it around the room, muttering to herself as she reordered her things, and undid the spells on the transfigured items. No need to have her room AND her life be a mess. 

She was thinking over her fellow Eighth Years, when she came upon the perfect solution. Someone she didn’t care about the opinions of. Someone who wouldn’t dare slander her this year. Someone who had spent two years under the thumb of the darkest wizard in Britain. 

She snatched her cloak up, wrapped it around her shoulders, and made sure the awful garment was hidden from sight before she undid the wards on her door and yanked it open, praying her only hope hadn’t gone to bed yet. He spent a lot of time in his room, but she’d seen him sneaking about in the early hours of the morning, still dressed, and trying to avoid detection as he snuck food from the kitchens back to his room. She walked purposefully across the common room, ignoring the three people still awake, and went up the boys’ stairs, stopping at the door with his initials. She knocked sternly, and waited, not bothering to call out her name. He likely wouldn’t open if he knew it was her. 

“What?” The irritated voice called from somewhere within, and she knocked again, harder, and more insistently. The door swung open to reveal Draco Malfoy, eyes narrowed in annoyance, and hair mussed as though he’d been running his hands through it. 

“What do you-” He froze, his brows shooting up in surprise. “Granger. What do you want?” 

“I need your help with something, and I need you to swear that you won’t tell anyone.” She said, keeping her voice stern. His eyes skimmed her, and she tucked her chin slightly, hoping the collar around her neck wasn’t showing. 

“Why are you wearing your cloak indoors, Granger? Hiding something? Is that what you need my help with, whatever you’re hiding under there?” He eyed the black mass of wool with curiosity, and apprehension, as though she could pull anything out of it. 

“Shh!” She hissed at him, glancing back down the stairs. They may have been listening, hoping to hear WHY she’d gone up the boys' stairs. She made a quick decision, and pushed him by his chest back into his room, following after him, and snapped the door shut. She aimed an imperturbable charm at the door, and felt fingers circle her wrist. She turned, pointing her wand at Malfoy as he stared down at the arm caught in his grasp. 

“What’s this? What are you WEARING?” He eyed her up and down again, and she growled wordlessly at him, warning him to be silent. 

“It’s an accident. I was attacked by a dark object, and I need your help getting rid of it. Can you help, and keep your mouth closed, or not?” 

“That depends on what it is…” He eyed her arm again, but let it go, his fingers slipping from the leather that ran from her wrist to her shoulder. “It’s not like anyone would believe anything I said about you, anyway. Or that I wouldn’t get cursed myself for spreading rumors. You’ve seen how they treat me, Granger. You really think I’m going to risk being cursed again, just to poke a bit of fun at you?” 

“That’s why I’m here. Of all the people that might be able to help, you’re the least likely to gossip.” She agreed, knowing that not even the other Slytherin Eighth year was friends with him. Who would he talk to, anyway? 

“So, are you going to tell me WHAT I’m supposed to be helping with, and WHY I’d even want to help you?” He snapped, tossing himself back into the wooden chair at his small desk, and fixing her with a glare to match her own. 

“You’ll help me, because it’s the RIGHT thing to do, and we all know how much you’re trying to prove you really are on the RIGHT side…” She hugged her robe tighter around herself, not wanting to show the vast expanses of revealed skin to him. 

“Fine. I’ll help however I can, but you’ll owe me.” He said, offering his terms. She thought them over. 

“I’ll owe you a similar favor, nothing extravagant, or beyond reason.” She countered. He nodded. 

“Deal.” He held out his hand, and she hesitated only a moment before she shook it. 

“I found a room full of contraband, basically the new hiding place for banned items, since the Room of Requirement was destroyed, and I touched one of the items. It attacked me, and I can’t get it off.” She explained, and held out her arm to him again, so he could inspect the skintight sleeve for any trace of dark magic. He ‘hmm’ed, and pulled out his wand, poking it at her wrist. 

“Ah!” She jumped, yanking her arm from him, and gave him a glare. “Magic doesn’t work! It just shocks me!” She fibbed a bit, not willing to admit that it wasn’t necessarily painful all the time, or that whatever spell he’d cast had sent the most uncomfortably erotic tingle right to her nethers. Stupid Dark magical suit. 

“Shocks you?” He narrowed his eyes and stood, “Give me your arm again.” 

She warily offered it, and he took it in his own. She didn’t see the discrete wave of his wand, but she felt the effect tickle up her arm. 

“I didn’t feel anything.” He met her eyes, and released her arm. 

“I did.” She announced, glowering. “What spells are you trying to cast?” 

“The first was a Revealing Charm, the second was a Tickling Charm.” He answered easily. 

“It actually felt like tickling! All up my arm!” She gasped in shock. Were some spells allowed through the leather? 

“Oh?” His eyebrows shot higher, and he smirked. “What EXACTLY is that attacked you, Granger?” His eyes swept down her covered body again, and she flushed at the way he seemed to know what was under her cloak. Had he seen something like this before? Did he know what it was? 

“It was a piece of clothing. Though, I wouldn’t call it ‘clothing’, really.” She admitted. His eyes were practically dancing with glee. 

“Let me see.” He commanded, and she drew back further, pulling her cloak even tighter in defense. 

“No! It’s… It’s humiliating.” She stammered. He put his hands on his hips and focused a stern look on her. 

“How am I supposed to help if I don’t even know what IT is?” He countered. She glared at him, and then heaved a tortured sigh. 

“Swear you won’t tell anyone, show anyone this memory in a pensieve, or otherwise disclose this event to ANYONE?” she demanded. 

“I swear, whatever you’re wearing under there will stay between us.” He held a hand over his heart, and rolled his eyes a bit, but she felt relieved at the words. She pulled the top of the cloak open, and revealed the embarrassing way her cleavage was displayed, the buckles she couldn’t open, and the collar that circled her neck. His eyes widened, and he looked over what was exposed. She couldn’t tell if it was an examining look, or a debauched one. She hoped it was the former, otherwise the way his eyes lingered on her chest would be even more uncomfortable than it already was. 

“May I?” He indicated the buckles, and she shrugged. 

“Go ahead. They wouldn’t work for me.” He clasped the buckled between each thumb and forefinger, trying to open it for a moment before he let his hands fall. 

“I think I know what this is, and I think I know how to get it off.” He said, but smirked in a way that made her blanch. 

“What’s the catch?” She asked, swallowing back her concern. 

“Well, it’s not really dark magic, but… You’ll never get it off on your own.” He announced, hands back on his hips as he stared down at the buckle that had rebuffed him. 

“What do you mean?” She encouraged, following his gaze down to the clasp. 

“I mean, it’s a bondage suit, Granger. And it appears that it’s not the dominant half. Meaning you’ll never be able to take it off alone. It requires a certain other party to… Participate.” 

“Participate? It’s not Quidditch, Malfoy!” She snapped, closing her cloak to his gaze again. His eyes moved to her own, and he fixed her with a knowing smirk. 

“Would you like a small demonstration of how it works?” He offered, smiling like a predator at her. She felt a shiver go down her spine, and thought it over a moment. 

“What sort of demonstration?” 

“Take your cloak off.” He suggested. 

She hugged it closer. “No.” 

“Do you want that thing off, or not?” He asked in a haughty voice. 

Hermione stared him down for a moment, and then, slowly, unclasped her cloak, and let it fall to the floor, using her hands to hide as much of her bare skin as she could. “Good. Kneel.” 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“Kneel, Granger.” 

She grumbled but sank to her knees, playing along for now. 

“Good girl. Now undo the top clasp. It’s blocking the view.” He was very nearly purring the words, and she glared hard at him, before she reached up to show him that the buckle was immovable. It popped open under her fingers easily, and she gasped in shock, looking down to see more of her breasts spilling out, but the first step in undoing the corset complete. 

“Oh my god!” She shouted, lurching back to her feet, and grabbing the thing with both hands, bending her face to inspect it. 

“How’d you do that?” She demanded, using her hand to cover the revealed cleavage. 

“Submission suit, Granger. You can get it undone as long as you submit.” He intoned. “Each one is different to the specifications of whoever bought it, but this one seems fairly simple. At least it’s not for a masochist.” 

“Why not, what then?” She asked, horrified by the thought. 

“Well, if it was meant for a masochist, you could either take a beating to get it removed, or wait until we located the creator, and have them undo their magic on it.” He explained. She shuddered, neither of those appealing. 

“So, you just have to tell me to undo the others, and I can?” She asked, eager to get out of the monstrosity. 

“I don’t think it’ll be that easy, but we can try. Undo the second buckle.” She tried, but it stayed firmly in place, her movements only serving to jostle her breasts about. She covered them again, and looked to him, displeased. “Didn’t think so. Here, let me try…” He held his hands out, but waited for her nod before he stepped closer. Instead of reaching for the buckle, he grabbed the collar, and used it as leverage to push her backward, into the door. She hissed in shock, but before she could berate him, he’d grabbed her hip with his other hand, and dipped his head next to her ear. “Don’t get mad at me, Granger, you’re the one who touched it.” He whispered. 

The words were followed by the softest skimming of his lips across her neck, and his hand trailing across her abdomen, skimming the bare skin revealed by the straps that made up the sides of the bodice, and she heard a second pop as the bottom clasp was undone. He pulled his head back, and stared into her eyes from mere centimeters away, keeping hold of the collar as he spoke again. “So, Granger, do you think you can keep going with this, or do you want to stop, and spend the next couple days hunting down the wizard who made it?” His breath skimmed across her collarbone, and she struggled to regain thought. She was angry, she was confused, and if she was honest, she was a little turned on. Whatever strange magic this leather was imbued with, it was making her neck tingle as he kept his finger looped through the collar, and the tingles were trailing all the way down her front. 

“I want it off, now.” She demanded. She’d never been pushed against a door and looked at this way, and it alone was making her think odd things. Like how very intense Malfoy looked, how soft his lips had felt on her skin. She could feel the warmth of his hand on her hip, and wanted to push him away, and pull him closer. Whatever it took to get this damned thing off, it would be worth it. 

“Alright.” He purred at her, grinning. She swallowed nervously. 

When she’d decided to come to Malfoy for help, she hadn’t cared what he thought of her, but now, she was wondering if there were indeed things she cared that he thought about her. 

“Don’t smirk at me like that, Malfoy. I’m not THAT kind of girl.” She snarled at him. 

“I know. That’s what makes it even more fun.” He bent his head and captured her lips with his before she could offer anymore remarks, and a firm tug at her neck had her following after him as he backed away, still connected at the lips. He only broke apart when they’d reached the bed, and he turned to push her down onto it. She bounced slightly on the mattress, and opened her mouth to argue whether this was really necessary, but he was already over her, kissing her again, and reaching for the third clasp. He pulled back, and glared down at it. 

“Why didn’t that work?” She asked, anxious, her lips tingling. 

“It doesn’t think there’s been enough effort?” He shrugged, and frowned at it. “Each one may require escalation of the submission. Are you willing to risk that?” He asked, kneeling over her, and twirling his wand through his fingers. 

She felt more bare than being fully nude as she lay underneath him, half exposed, her wand in her cloak on the floor. 

“Just get it off, whatever it takes.” She demanded, not liking that he’d actually been a rather good kisser. Would the surprises of tonight never cease? 

“As you wish.” He grinned, and gripped his wand properly. “Hands above your head, Granger.” 

She complied, throwing one last glare to the suit attached to her body, the reason she HAD to comply, as she lifted her arms to the pillows. 

“Incarcerous.” he muttered, directing the spell to her wrists. Hermione yelped in shock as ropes bound her wrists, and she brought them back down, to a more defensible position as she glared at him. He popped the previously reluctant buckle open, and she glared harder. Of COURSE it had worked. 

“I said hands above your head, Granger.” His voice had an edge of steel to it, and she gulped, replacing her hands on the pillows above her. “Keep them there.” 

He waited for her to nod mutely, and then bent over her, leaning close to her face, his smirk pure evil. “Are you enjoying this, Granger?” 

“No!” She barked back, but he just grinned, and leaned closer, trailing his lips along her jawline as he tested the fourth, and final buckle that held the bodice together. It stayed locked, and she could feel his smirk. He’d get to torture her further, goodie for him. 

“Tell me the truth, Granger. Are you enjoying this?” His lips murmured against her throat, passed over the collar, and kissed her clavicle. 

“No…” She mumbled, unsure whether she was refusing to answer, or denying her enjoyment. Truth be told, he really was good at this. One of his hands had slid under the small of her back, making her arch slightly into him as he kissed his way down her chest. She couldn’t stop herself from inhaling sharply, and trembling slightly as his lips reached the swell of her breasts, and continued to travel lower. Another useless tug at the buckle. Another few centimeters lower. 

“You’re a bit flushed for someone who’s not enjoying herself. I won’t tell anyone if you admit it, Granger, but I will reward you.” He cooed, nuzzling the pale flesh gently, waiting for her answer. She closed her eyes, trying not to think of what she was saying, and instead, focused on getting that damn clasp open. 

“I like it.” She whispered, “You’re better than I expected.” 

The bodice popped open under his fingers, but he wasn’t looking. He was leaning over her face, staring down into her eyes when she opened them. 

“Does that mean you’ve thought about this before?” He asked, his usual smirk absent, a look of flushed curiosity on his features instead. 

“N-no. Just… I never thought you’d be good at this kind of thing. Better at insults and whining.” She barbed, pulling her arms down past her face to cover her bare chest before he could see her. 

“Oh? You’ve never thought about kissing me before? Not even once?” He teased, his eyes following the trail of her arms before darting back up to her eyes. 

“Does submitting to you mean being humiliated, too, Malfoy? Can’t you get it off without talking?” She asked, hiding her embarrassment behind irritation. 

“I could TRY, but… would it really feel like submission for you if you weren’t a bit reluctant?” He countered. She paused, mouth open to reply, but his argument made a fair point. If he only asked her to do things she was already willing to do, was it REALLY submitting to him, or just following suggestions? 

“I’m not sure.” She finally managed, and he grinned once more. 

“Good. So, have you ever thought about kissing me before?” He prodded, his fingers trailing up her arm, across the leather, and to the buckles that kept her sleeves secured to the collar. 

“Once.” She admitted, blushing a dark red. 

“When?” He was grinning stupidly, delighted by her confession. 

“First year, before I knew you were a prat… I thought you were rather handsome, then.” 

“And now?” His fingers undid one buckle at her shoulder, and he shifted sides, bracing himself on that hand, and using his other to make the same motion up her opposite arm. 

“Now, what?” She balked, averting her gaze from his, to watch his fingers hover over the buckle. 

“Do you think I’m handsome now?” 

“I suppose you’re good looking.” She shrugged, and the buckle refused to open. 

“You’ll have to do better than that, Granger. Look at me.” 

Her eyes met his again and she swallowed the sudden nervous feeling that kept her from breathing. 

“You know, I may not be able to stop you from lying, but this knows.” He plucked at the leather strap, and she rolled her eyes. 

“I didn’t lie.” 

“You didn’t tell me the truth, either.” He quipped, once more grabbing her collar, and lifting her head from the bed a bit, his grey eyes boring holes into her brain as another tingle shot from her neck to her crotch. “Do you think I’m sexy, Granger? Are you thinking about kissing me now?” He poured the questions against her lips, his own brushing hers gently as he spoke. 

“Yes.” She breathed in reply, feeling like her face was about to catch fire. 

“To both?” 

“Mmhm.” She nodded a tiny bit, fighting the urge to close her eyes against his piercing gaze. At least he wasn’t smirking at her answer. He let her head back down to the mattress, and followed with his own, kissing her expertly as his fingers went from her collar to the shoulder strap, undoing the buckle with ease. She nearly moaned with relief. Only one left; the collar. 

She’d expected him to break the kiss after releasing the shoulder buckle, but he kept his lips to hers, and trailed his hand down her chest, to her wrists, the only cover she had for her breasts now. He tugged at her arm, but she held it firm. 

“Let me touch you?” His words were barely audible, but she could feel his mouth form them, and she shivered. It wasn’t an order, and his hand had dropped her wrist, no longer tugging, but waiting for her reply as his lips resumed kissing her. She let her mouth move against his, kissing back, enjoying the feeling of his tongue darting out to taste her lips, the warmth of his body hovering over hers. She let her arms slide down slowly, granting his request, but ready to cover herself if he tried looking. One seemed so much more embarrassing than the other, especially if he had to stop kissing her to peek. 

His fingers skimmed delicately across her collarbone, and down the center of her chest, between her breasts, and nearly to her navel, before her bound arms blocked his path. She gasped into his mouth with enjoyment and surprise. She’d expected him to go straight for her breasts, not trail feather light touches across her ribs; to grab and maul instead of using a single finger to trace a line from one side of her chest to the other, skimming the bottom swells of her bosom as he went, leaving the same tingling that had flowed through the collar. Her nipples hardened well before his fingers found them, and she shuddered with ashamed pleasure that the rolling motion he played with them in was sending electric waves of heat directly between her legs. She didn’t quite care if this was more than necessary to release the collar, it was more pleasurable than any touch she’d had, and she didn’t want it to stop. 

“Spread your legs.” His next order was said between biting her swollen bottom lip, and helping her along, his own legs pushing hers wider as she parted them. He was nestled between her legs, kissing her, fondling her, and pressing his hips to hers provocatively. She could feel the hard bulge pressing into her core through the layer of leather and his clothes, and she didn’t even realize that she’d wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him harder into her. She didn’t notice until he sat up, pulling her onto his lap as he knelt on the bed, still kissing her, and she didn’t have to fight for balance as she was already wrapped around him, and his hands held her up on him. 

“Finite Incantatem.” He muttered against her lips, freeing her arms, which she didn’t have a chance to wrap around his neck before his hands were tugging the sleeves down her arms, helping her out of the garment, and baring her torso completely as they yanked the sleeves over her hands, and let the open bodice fall away. It tugged at her hips which were still encased in leather, but faster than she could gasp, he had her returned to her back, and was lifting her hips from the bed, tugging the leather and netting down her legs, leaving her stark naked except for the collar still around her neck. She clammed up instantly as he tossed the leather aside, and turned to look at her. Her knees came together, and her arms covered her chest and belly, trying to hide herself from his heated gaze. 

“Don’t.” He ordered, leaning back over her, forcing her legs apart as he pushed his weight against them. His hands pulled hers away, and his lips were kissing her collarbone before she could protest, the feeling of his warmth and lips washing away her objections as his mouth closed over a nipple, his tongue swirling around the peak as he sucked and nipped gently. 

“Oh, god!” She exclaimed, her hands fisting in his hair. She could feel his smirk against her breast, and closed her eyes, trying to find some way to even things out. He was so much better at this than she was, so much more adept at making her wiggle and moan. She’d said she wasn’t that kind of girl, but she was sure starting to feel like she might be. 

“This isn’t fair!” She finally managed to pant, prying her eyes open and glaring down at him, positive that her red cheeks were ruining the intimidating look. “You can’t just take my clothes off, Malfoy, and leave me naked while you get to stay fully dressed!” 

His mouth moved from its task, and he scattered kisses back up her chest, he pressed one to her neck, and then paused at her ear. “You want me to get undressed?” He tilted his hips intentionally at that word, making it clear that if he got undressed, there’d be nothing to separate her from the erection straining against his robes. 

“That’s not what I meant! I meant you should let me get dressed before we try to get the collar off!” She declared, taking the moment to cross her arms across her chest. 

“Get redressed in what? You didn’t bring any clothes with you, but you could take a chance putting the bondage suit back on…” He seemed entirely too eager at that idea, so she shook her head before he’d even finished speaking. 

“Not a chance. I could go get some clothes from my room…” She began, but he was shaking his head, too. 

“Wouldn’t work, unless I ordered you to go somewhere, Granger. The collar has to stay in proximity to the suit unless otherwise commanded.” 

“So command me to go put clothes on!” She growled, squeezing her arms tighter. 

“That’s no fun for ME.” He smirked. “But if you’re really worried about fairness…” His words trailed off as he sat up, his fingers began darting across his shirt, popping open buttons with swift dexterity. Hermione swallowed, watching as his chest was revealed underneath the black fabric, nearly white in contrast. 

“You admitted that you think I’m sexy… Aren’t you curious what’s underneath?” His shirt was tossed away before she could make her mouth work, and her eyes opened wider, as though she could see more of him at once that way. 

All the thinness from the war had been eradicated from his face, and his body seemed to be the same, sculpted perfection. Lithe, toned, and all the same perfect shade of ivory from his neck to his hips. She had to clench her hand into a fist to fight the urge to reach out and see if he felt like the marble he resembled. His smirk said he’d noticed both her look, and her fist, and she glared harder as he reached for his belt. 

“Don’t you dare!” She yelped, reaching her hands down suddenly, not sure if she wanted more to stop him from undoing his pants, or cover her privates from his dropping gaze. 

“What about it being fair, Granger?” He mocked, as one of her hands clutched his, and her other formed a shield over her groin. His smirk was making it easier for her to think rationally, driving her lust to the back of her mind as irritation took its place.The arrogant prick, of course he thought he could get a free lay from her misfortune. 

“It’s more unfair to take advantage of someone who’s asked for your help.” She shot at him, noticing that his eyes were trailing from her hands, to her breasts, and finally, to her face. 

“Am I REALLY taking advantage of you, Granger?” He sneered, dropping back over her, supporting himself with his hands, as he loomed above her. “You said ‘whatever it takes’. What if it takes actually doing something sexual?” 

He reached up and plucked at the collar, his fingers which had so easily removed his shirt unable to undo the simple fastening, making his point. “The fact that the collar stays without the rest of the outfit means it’s MEANT to be worn alone. What do you think the owner intended to do, wearing just a collar they could only remove by following orders?” 

She felt her face blush again, with embarassed understanding. The deviant who bought this thing was seriously warped. 

“So, what? I’m supposed to let you give me orders on how you like to-... I’m not going to be your sex slave, Malfoy!” She snapped. 

“I never said I was going to order you to fuck me, Granger.” His eyes narrowed, and he leaned closer. “Not that you can really deny you’d like to.” 

She huffed in indignation, but he was speaking again before she could defend herself. 

“I’ll admit I want to. What about you, Granger? Brave enough to admit you want me?” The play on her old House’s preference was low, but she shook her head, unwilling to admit just how enticing he was, especially without a shirt. “Fine.” He growled, and pulled away. 

She was worried for a moment that he was going to abandon her to the last piece on her own, when she saw the flash of his wand, and a different worry shot through her. 

“Incarcerous.” 

“Wait, Malfoy, what are you-” 

Another wave of his wand secured her re-tied wrists to the headboard, forcing both her arms high above her head as she lay trapped beneath him. Her eyes went wide, and she tugged at them, desperate to cover herself, until a soft cotton was draped over her. He’d summoned his shirt from the floor, and laid it over her. 

“Better?” He asked, his eyes flashing with unquelled irritation. 

She nodded, swallowing, but didn’t dare ask him to release her wrists. 

“Good. Spread your legs wider.” He pressed his hand into her thigh, and she complied, grateful that his eyes were locked on hers instead of between her legs. With her arms tied, he could easily pull her legs apart, and do anything he wanted, be it look, or touch. He did neither, his face set in an unhappy sneer as he leaned back over her trapped form, and held his face an inch from hers. 

“Do you like being tied up, Granger?” He hissed, his eyes darting up to her wrists, and back down to her face. 

“No.” She breathed, tension filling her muscles at his glaring face, the snap in his words. He’d covered her, but the air felt heavier, more dangerous. 

“Well, it’s not like you’d admit it if you did.” He smirked, and ran a finger across her cheek. “Right?” 

She wasn’t sure how to answer, so she stayed silent, watching him carefully as he let his finger run down her chin, to her throat. 

“When I took my shirt off, did you want to touch me?” 

She was going to remain silent again, but he didn’t say anything further, waiting for an answer, so she nodded. 

“Say it.” He ordered, looping his finger under the collar, and pulling her face half an inch closer. 

“I wanted to touch you.” She mumbled, another blush spreading across her face. Another tug at the collar from a failed attempt to open it. 

“Do you still want to touch me?” His hand left the collar and reached up, trailing from her captured wrist to her shoulder. 

“Yes.” She answered, her eyes darting down to look at the pale skin she could still see below his face. It did look smooth, touchable, and his warm fingers promised it wouldn’t feel like stone. His breathing was moving his chest visibly, and even hanging over her, his stomach was flat except for the lines of muscle underneath. His fingers tugged at the collar futilely again. 

“Do you want me to keep touching you?” 

“Yes.” 

“But you don’t want me to fuck you?” 

She shook her head ‘no’, but couldn’t force the lie through her teeth. 

“Say it.” He ordered. 

She shook her head again. Her eyes fluttered closed as his hand slid down along his own shirt, between her breasts, and to her belly. He reached the end of the shirt, and tugged, pulling it down to cover her mound more fully, while exposing her breasts more. If she’d been paying more attention, she’d have noticed that his shirt was long enough to cover her from neck to thighs, but wasn’t fully draped across her, letting him ‘choose’ between what was being displayed. He stopped tugging the shirt so that it just barely covered her nipples, and she forced herself not to breathe too hard, in case it slid off them. 

His fingers roamed back upward, and traced the curve of the tops of her breasts, and then the line where his shirt met skin. 

“Do you want me to untie you, so you can leave?” He asked, his eyes following his fingers, and his voice more curious than mean. She shook her head. 

“I can’t hear your brains rattling, Granger.” He intoned. 

“No, I don’t want to leave.” She answered. He locked gazes with her, and slid further up. 

“You don’t want untied?” He asked, his voice honey-sweet, and reeking of a trap. 

“Not if I’ll have to leave.” Hermione replied, hoping to dodge the trap. 

“Do you, or do you not want me to untie you?” He asked pointedly, curling his fingers around her jaw. 

“No! I don’t want you to untie me!” She snapped, irritated that he required her to say it. 

“Do you want me to kiss you again? Would that make being tied up better?” His lips were so close, so promising. She nodded, her eyes falling to them as they slipped further away. She frowned as he moved downward, and placed his lips on her throat, then her shoulder, then her chest. It wasn’t exactly what she’d meant, but his warm tongue trailing along the very edge of her exposed breasts was so nice, she didn’t dare complain. 

“Are you seeing anyone, Granger, or is this lovely view all mine?” He asked, tilting his head to look up at her. 

She shook her head, and he clucked his tongue. 

“Does that mean you’ve got a boyfriend, or that I get this to myself?” 

“I’m not seeing anyone.” She answered, feeling her breath catch in her chest at his cunning smirk. He bent his head down to her breast again, and suckled, gently at first, and then with force, coming away with a ‘pop’ that made her chest jiggle in reaction. 

“Then there’s no one to see that.” He lifted his head again for her to see the bruise-like mark he’d left. 

“You bastard! You left a hickey on me!?” She nearly shouted, struggling against her bonds with vigor, angry that he’d marked her. 

“Why does it matter if you’re not seeing anyone? It’ll heal before you’re married.” He taunted, and slid back up her body, pressing his lips to the side of her throat, just above the black strip of leather. 

“Don’t you DARE, Malfoy!” She shrieked, wiggling to keep her neck from his lips. He lifted his face to look at her with a grin. 

“I thought you wanted me to kiss you?” He asked with all the innocence of an angel. She glared. 

“Kiss, yes. Not leave bruises all over me for everyone to see!” She vented. 

“I wasn’t going to leave one on your neck. What do you take me for, some amateur?” He smirked, and bent his face back to the curve, pressing his lips to her skin delicately. She felt the wet trail of his tongue run from the collar to the corner of her jaw, eliciting a shiver, and gooseflesh to pop up on her arms. 

“Oh, look. Your struggling caused the shirt to slip.” He murmured, leaning back fully, ‘tsk’ing in mock disappointment as his eyes absorbed the sight of her bared nipples, the way her breasts were heaving with breath from her heated outburst. 

“Fix it!” She demanded, unable to cover herself, and feeling her flush spread along her whole face. 

“If you insist.” He grabbed the very wrong point, and tugged, purposefully letting his eyes roam back down her stomach as he slowly slid the shirt over her breasts, resulting in the fabric revealing more and more of her skin lower down. Hermione bit back a screech of indignation at the obvious ploy. 

“Stop!” She ordered, and his hand halted, his eyes jerking back to hers. 

“Granger, if you keep ordering me about, we’ll never get that thing off of you.” He drawled, lifting a hand to finger the leather at her neck. She swallowed, and closed her eyes, counting to ten. Why did he have to be so infuriating, and so arousing? Couldn’t he just pick one? 

“Fine!” She snapped, forcing her muscles to go lax in a show of compliance. 

He watched her for a moment, making sure she stayed still, and she took the moment to look over his shirtless form. He really was well shaped. The definition of a Quidditch player, with the slim body of a seeker, even though he hadn’t properly played the game in a couple years. His hips formed a V that disappeared into his trousers, and as her eyes followed the lines, she could clearly see the shape of his arousal through the black cotton. She gulped, and snapped her eyes away, back to his, and realized she’d been caught staring. 

“Like what you see, Granger?” His smile said he already knew the answer, but she replied anyway. 

“Yes. You already know you’re attractive, though.” She shrugged as best she could, trying to seem nonchalant, even though she was certain her face would be permanently tinted pink after this evening. 

“Yes, I know I am. It’s still nice to know women agree. Especially since most treat me like a leper these days.” He muttered, leaning in. “Aren’t you afraid what might be said since you’ve been in my room for so long already?” 

“No. Whatever they might think is better than them learning the truth. I knew when I came here it might start gossip, and rumors about an affair with you will be much easier to deal with than rumors about me being an absolute freak.” She replied, shrugging again, despite her upraised arms. 

“I see. So you’d rather be my plaything than have people think you’re a deviant? What if you are a deviant, though, Granger? Do you mind me knowing the truth?” He was slowly leaning down again, each word bringing him closer to her, bringing his bare skin closer to hers. 

“I’m not a deviant.” She whispered, unable to tear her eyes from his. It seemed as though all of his earlier irritation had vanished, and he was back to looking intense, and wanting. 

“Are you sure? You’re lying mostly nude underneath a man you can’t stand, waiting for him to kiss you. I’m sure SOMETHING about that says ‘debauched’.” His lips were almost to hers, and damn him, he had a point. 

“I don’t mind you knowing.” She managed to breathe, answering his question, even though she wasn’t entirely sure which of them was really right. Whether she was or wasn’t depraved, he didn’t seem to care. Or rather, he liked it too much to ridicule. His lips touched hers in the softest of kisses, and she let her eyes fall closed, and pressed her lips more firmly to his. He returned the eagerness, and she let his tongue slip into her mouth, brushing it with her own. She could feel his hips pressing his erection into her again, his hands sliding up her skin, driving her thoughts away once more as he began playing with the pink peak of her breast, repeating the rolling motion she’d liked so much, and tugging gently as he did so. A moan escaped her mouth as he toyed with her, and her hips bucked up into his in response. His fingers squeezed harder, and her chest pushed up into his touch. She tugged at her arms, wanting to grab his hair, and touch him back. They stayed firmly secured to the headboard, and she growled in frustration, breaking the kiss, and breathing heavily as she fought between wanting to be released from the ropes, and wanting the damn collar off. 

“Say you want me.” He murmured, kissing his way back down her face, to her neck and chest, until his mouth was over her free nipple, and he was lapping at it in the most delightfully sinful way. 

“I want you.” She moaned, unable to argue as his mouth and fingers tugged at the sensitive nubs, and a free hand trailed lower across her stomach, slowly creeping closer to the wetness between her legs. She didn’t stop him, half her mind on the leather, the other half on the burning that demanded satisfaction. Both outweighed her desire to keep up any appearance in front of him. He’d already guessed she was a pervert, so why not enjoy the pleasures that went with that assumption? 

His fingers finally found their goal, and her breath froze in her chest at the completely wondrous feeling of his long hard digits brushing along her swollen flesh. It was better than a warm fire on a cold day, and his teeth tugging at her nipple made it so much better. She writhed under him, not sure which part of her body to push into him, but knowing she wanted him to touch more of her. She wanted more of the heat that was flooding her, more of his wet mouth on her skin, she wanted his hips closer again, so she could wrap her legs around him, and she wanted him to never stop. 

“Say you’re mine, Granger, and I’ll let you come. Say you belong to me.” He’d stopped licking the bud on her chest, and was whispering into her ear, tugging the lobe with his teeth as he drew slow circles with his fingers on her core. 

“I belong to you. I’m yours!” She gasped, desperate for him not to stop. But stop he did, his fingers pulling away instantly, as he released her other nipple, and withdrew his hand from her groin, reaching the closest to her neck. He popped the collar open and she growled, irritated that he’d quit, and furious that she didn’t have the damn collar as an excuse to keep playing this game. 

He tossed the collar over the side of the bed, and stared down into her eyes, his grey irises burning with flames. 

“Say you want me, Granger.” He demanded, his eyebrows twitching with an emotion he suppressed. 

Hermione panted, struggling not to scream at him in frustration. 

“Untie me, Malfoy.” She bit out, tugging at her arms. His lip curled in a sneer, and he rolled his eyes, but nevertheless, leaned back and waved his wand, releasing the ropes around her wrists. She flexed her hands, and slowly pulled her aching arms down, wincing as they regained their normal movement. He was leaning back, looking over the edge of the bed where he’d tossed the entire leather ensemble, and totally unsuspecting as she leaned up, grabbed him by the hair, and pulled his face to hers. His eyes opened wide with shock as she nearly climbed on his lap, and pushed her bare chest to his, tossing his shirt aside, too agitated to even care about being naked. 

“You have five seconds, Malfoy, to finish what you started, or I’m going to curse you into a thousand tiny-” 

He cut her threat off by pressing his lips to hers, wrapping his fingers around her bare arse, and slamming her back down into the mattress. Her breath left her in a whoosh, but she couldn’t stop the grin that spread over her face as he trailed his kisses down her neck, chest, and stomach. Before she realized what he was doing, his face was buried between her thighs, making her gasp, and rock against him in an indecent way. Her hands fisted in his hair as he kissed her back into a fervor, and the pleasure drove any argument back down her throat. He added fingers to his ministrations, and she came undone, her voice spilling from her mouth freely, her body trembling with the orgasm, and stars swam behind her closed eyelids. She collapsed back to his bed, and he pulled away, grinning victoriously, and kissed his way back up her belly, stopping only to nip at a nipple before he brought his lips to hers, and kissed her slowly, more gentle than she thought he was capable of being. 

“Was that enough, or would you like more?” He trailed his fingers along her waist, teasing her with his burning stare. She merely continued to catch her breath, rolling her eyes at him. 

“I’m assuming it’s a faux pas to just leave, now, with what little dignity I have left?” Hermione finally grumbled, feeling the shame of what she’d just done beginning to seep through her post-coital brain. 

“Only a complete prat would demand you stay if you don’t want to. If that’s all you want, then go ahead; I’d rather wank than force you, thanks.” Malfoy returned, and to her surprise, he rolled to the side, removed his legs from hers, and laid next to her, head propped up on his elbow, eyes trailing over her in his bed one last time. 

“Oh.” She said, feeling rather dumb as she stared at him a moment. That was incredibly decent of him. 

“Do you need to borrow clothes to walk across the common room in, so you’re not just wearing your cloak?” He asked, eyes finally drawing up to hers. She stared at him, nearly dropping her jaw in surprise. Not at all an offer she’d expect from him. 

“That would be appreciated, if you don’t mind.” She mumbled, turning her gaze away, and sitting up, to curl slightly in on herself, remembering that she was, indeed, naked. How could she have forgotten? He rolled from the bed, and went to his trunk, cracking it open, and quickly plucking out a few items, which he tossed gently onto the bed in front of her as he found them. “Thank you.” She managed, pulling the t-shirt over her head quickly, and having to scoot to the edge of his bed to pull the flannel pajamas on. To her surprise, they weren’t all black. The pants were a dark emerald, and the shirt was a light grey. As she pulled the clothes on, he moved about the room, picking up the discarded leather, placing her cloak on the bed next to her, and moving his shirt to a small basket of discarded clothes. She watched him handle the leather, and frowned. 

“Why doesn’t it attack YOU?” She asked, standing to pull her cloak on. He tossed it onto his desk unceremoniously and smirked at her. 

“It’s meant for a girl, Granger. Can you really imagine me trouncing around in fishnets and a corset?” 

God help her, she did. And it was hilarious. She bit back a laugh as he smiled, and he met her at the door, just as her hand reached for it. 

“Here.” 

“What’s this?” She asked, taking the offered scroll of parchment. 

“My arithmancy notes, in case any nosy bints are still down there.” He grinned, and she felt her heart flutter nervously as she looked up at his stormy grey eyes. He’d given her clothes, AND an alibi? Jesus, was he aiming for a sainthood? 

“I- Thank you.” She mumbled, feeling a lump beginning to form in her throat. No, no. She was NOT about to cry over Draco Malfoy showing some humanity. “Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?” She asked, suspicion mixing with her gratitude. He could have thrown her out with the cloak, and fetish leather, and left her to fight for her own reputation, but here he was, seeing her out, and being kinder than he’d ever been to her. 

“So that if you come back, it’s not to hex me.” He grinned mischievously down at her, and leaned closer. 

“I’m not coming back, at all!” She rebuffed, not liking the way her stomach was twisting into knots at how close his lips were again. Merlin, but he was a good kisser. Would she ever be able to look at him without thinking about that again? 

“Unless you need to return my notes, of course.” He retorted, and snatched her hand, pulling her off balance, and right into his chest. His still-bare chest. She kept her face tilted upward so she wouldn’t be tempted to nuzzle into it, but it seemed that wasn’t the ‘right’ move, either. His lips pressed down into hers, kissing her just as softly and thoroughly as ever, and then he released her, stepped away, and held the door open. 

“Goodnight, Granger. Feel free to come study again.” He said, giving her a devilish smirk as she stepped into the short hallway. 

“Goodnight, Malfoy.” She replied automatically, swallowing down the desire to push back in and keep kissing him. 

At least when he’d been sexy and a jerk, it was easy to rationalize getting the suit off, and getting out. Now, he was sexy, and nice, and she was thoroughly confused. “My friends call me Draco.” He shrugged, leaning against the doorframe, his white blonde hair creating a halo as it was backlit by his room. “We’re not friends.” She argued, finally feeling as though the world was steady underneath her. “Of course we’re not.” He smirked, and closed the door, leaving her standing in the dark hallway, wanting to shout through the door at him in a childish fashion, the whole world reeling around her once more as she was left with his parting sarcasm.


	2. Act 02

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an attempt to sleep better, Hermione once more seeks out Malfoy...

“I’ll have Filch see to this room. He’ll be pleased to confiscate so many things at once.” Headmistress McGonagall decreed, closing the door behind them, and casting a single password charm to it. Something Filch could bypass without magic, but no student could get through unless she told them the password. Hermione sighed with relief. At least SHE wouldn’t have to risk her own pride again, just to see these things out.  
“On a different note, I’ve heard your grades aren’t doing so well, Miss Granger. Is there any problem?” The Headmistress asked, fixing her student with a concerned look as they walked down the hall together.  
“Oh. I’ve been having trouble sleeping is all.” Hermione muttered, feeling ashamed to admit it. She was a war heroine, not a restless child, and her troubled sleep wasn’t something to concern the Headmistress with. Maybe Madam Pomfrey, but not McGonagall.  
“Trouble sleeping? Is it your dreams?” McGonagall asked, her tall figure cutting a path through the students that rushed around them heading to their first class of the day.  
“When I can get to sleep, it’s bad dreams. But I have problems actually falling asleep. I don’t really want to take potions, though. I hear they can be addictive.” Hermione answered, and then to ease Professor McGonagall’s worry. “But I slept just fine last night. Went to bed, passed out, and woke up dream-free this morning!”  
“That’s good to hear. Did you try something different last night?” McGonagall asked in a pleased tone, watching Hermione expectantly. Hermione gulped, and nodded, fighting her embarrassed blush.  
“A bit different.” She said, trying not to think too hard on what had happened.  
“Well, whatever it was, I’m glad it’s working. Keep it up. It’d be a shame for your final year to end on a poor note when you’ve been an excellent student all previous years.” McGonagall advised, and Hermione felt her face darken. If only McGonagall had known WHAT she was telling Hermione to continue doing, would she still be so happy about it?  
“I’ll try, Professor.” Hermione mumbled unwilling to admit why she’d be reluctant to repeat the exhausting scenario. She could try other things on her own, before committing to any sort of Malfoy-based ‘relaxation’.  
-  
She’d been so adamant she wouldn’t come back here, yet here she was, standing in front of his door, her fist raised to knock, but unable to go through the motion.  
It’d been a week since she’d slept well, and she could hardly focus in class, her notes were lacking, and she felt constantly like shouting, and ripping her hair out. She’d been to Pomfrey, turned down the offered potions, and tried all of the non-magical solutions the witch had offered. Nothing had worked, not even the delicate way she’d phrased ‘masturbating’. Hermione had jumped on that idea, positive that the orgasm she’d had under Malfoy’s ministrations was the reason she’d slept so well. But no matter how she tried, she just couldn’t get there. Like tickling herself, it just refused to work. So here she was, hand raised, eyes staring at the ceiling, his arithmancy notes clutched in her other hand, wondering if she REALLY needed to sleep.  
She knew he was awake in there, having been in the lounge when he’d snuck back in, a small tray of snacks being ferried to his room. They’d ignored each other, but it had sparked her curiosity. How was he always sneaking food into his room, and still maintaining his amazing figure? Would allowing him to ‘dominate’ her allow her to sleep again? It was already two in the morning, she was alone in the common room, and no one was around to see her go up the stairs. So she’d gone. And hesitated. And stood there, nervous.  
The door swung open in front of her, nearly making her scream in surprise, and flooding the hallway with the light from inside. She jumped back, clutching her chest as her heart pounded, her hand fisted around her wand in case of any danger.  
“Granger?” His voice was melodic, but confused as he looked up from the ground, to her face. “Can I help you?” He asked, staring her down as she tried to calm her thumping heart.  
“I- no. No, I was just… returning this.” She held out the parchment with his notes on it, and offered a tight smile.  
“At two in the morning?” He quirked a single brow, and stepped back, holding the door open for her, and not taking the notes. She took a large gulp of air, braced herself, and stepped into his room. He closed the door shut, and waved his wand at it. She saw the slight shimmer as the barrier settled in place, and swallowed nervously again.  
“Shouldn’t you be in bed, Granger?” He needled her, finally taking the notes from her hand, and tossing them to his desk.  
“I can’t sleep, anyway, so what’s the point?” She shot back, crossing her arms defiantly across her chest.  
“Ahh, so you’re here to spend your tortured nighttime hours more productively?” He said suggestively, stepping into her space with easy grace. Her eyes flickered to his lips, and she had to pry them away. The other night was flooding back to her, making it seem as though the past week hadn’t transpired, she’d never left his room, and he was ready to continue teasing her again, right here.  
“I came to ask what you did with that damned suit. Filch spent the last couple days cleaning out the rest of that room, and it’d be an absolute shame if THAT thing made it past the cleanup.” She retorted, leaning against the door with more indifference than she felt.  
“Oh?” he stalked away, opened a drawer in his desk, and pulled out the folded mass of leather. “This what you want?”  
Her face flamed at the insinuation of his words, and she glared.  
“I’d like to see it burn.” She muttered, aiming her glare at the leather.  
“What if I told you… this isn’t what you think?” His smirk was full of secrets, and she studied first him, then the pile in his hands.  
“What do you mean?” She inquired, eyeing him suspiciously. He stepped closer, and held out the garment. She drew away, not wanting to be attacked again.  
“Try it on and find out.” He replied enigmatically, offering it to her. She eyed it, and then him. Was this just a ploy to get her to touch it, so he’d get to take it off of her again? Wasn’t that basically what she’d come for, anyway? His ‘help’?  
“What did you do to it?” She asked, making a face at the black monster he offered.  
“I owled the manufacturer.” He said, smirking, but explaining nothing. “Go ahead, Granger, it won’t bite.” He held it closer, and she nearly growled. She felt like a chicken, backing away from a bit of clothes, but the evil smile on his face didn’t bode well for her evening if she DID put it on. She wetted her lips, and looked at it, weighing her options. It had worked last time, and she DID need to sleep sometime this week…  
“Is it going to attack me again?” She asked, reaching out a tentative hand, and stopping just short of touching it. She still couldn’t believe it wouldn’t attack Malfoy, and felt like setting it on fire, just for it’s pickiness.  
“No, you can choose whether or not to put it on.” He said, and lifted his arms, so her hand touched the cool leather. She gulped back her fear, and froze, waiting for him to be proven wrong. Nothing happened.  
“So, what? You owled whoever made it, and got it FIXED?” She asked, plucking the edges from his grasp, and holding it out to inspect. Her breath left her in a rush, and she felt her eyes trying to bug out of her head. “What is this!?”  
“I sent the other one back to him, so he could get it to whoever paid for it, and I ordered this.” He was grinning at the look on her face, and he thumped the back of the unfamiliar bodice she held up.  
“You sent that thing BACK? It doesn’t belong in a school, Draco! And neither does this one!”  
“I thought we weren’t friends, Granger?” He taunted, not missing her slip up. Dammit! She mentally pinched herself, and glared. “It won’t end up back in school, I warned him that if it does, I won’t be able to return it a second time.”  
Hermione just grumbled wordlessly as she looked down at the new outfit.  
“Have you tried it on, yet?” She asked belligerently, giving him a pointed look.  
“Funny. I think you know it’s not for me, Granger.” He drawled, fixing her with a heated stare. “Want to try it?”  
“What’s this one do?” She asked, turning it around to see the back, and then again to reinspect the front. It looked like a plain black strapless corset, with lacing up the back. There was no netting, no straps, and no buckles. Nothing to trap her in it if she decided to take it off.  
“This one is very simple. Much less complicated than the other one, which is why it’s here so soon. Fewer enchantments for him to work through.” Malfoy answered.  
“But still some enchantments?” Hermione asked quickly, catching the underlying meaning in his words.  
“Of course. Impervious when worn, perfect sizing, and it IS still a bondage suit.” He was smirking again, and she wanted to slap it off of his face.  
“What’s that MEAN, Malfoy? You wouldn’t spend as much as I assume this costs unless there was something special about it, and you were getting something from it. Is it spelled to make me do whatever you say?” She hissed suspiciously, looking over the back again.  
“Put it on and find out, Granger.” He suggested, leaning back against his desk. She glared daggers at him, and then looked to the suit. “Were you disappointed last time you trusted me?”  
His question brought her up short. No, she hadn’t been. He’d been lovely, and it was still getting on her nerves just how pleased she’d been with the results.  
“No.” she mumbled, her face flaring red with her candor. He was smiling softly, waiting for her to make a decision. She huffed out a breath, and stalked to his bed, setting the corset down so she could undo the buttons of her shirt.  
“Turn around.” She ordered, giving him another glare. She caught his eye roll, but he did as asked, turning his back to her, and busying himself with tidying up his desk.  
Hermione pulled her shirt off, and looked at the bodice. It would be best to leave it laced, and slip it over her head, she decided, loosening the back, and pulling it on, wiggling slightly as the leather caught against her skin. When it was in place over her bra, she watched in wonder as the edges lengthened, forming a tight, short skirt overtop of her school pleats. She shuffled around, slipping out of her own skirt, and tugging the leather skirt down as far as could go without making the bodice slip off her chest. She reached behind her, and fumbled with the laces for a moment, before she gave up, realizing with a sigh, that this was part of the design.  
“Malfoy.” She growled, calling his eyes back to her. She turned her back to him, “Tie it.”  
She heard his footsteps approach, and his soft chuckle at her commanding tone. He began tugging at the laces, closing the leather over her skin, and she didn’t miss that his fingers brushed the bare skin as he went, tracing delicate patterns that made her back tingle. She felt his fingers make a swift movement over her bra, snapping it open with efficiency.  
“Malfoy!” She snapped, turning her head to glare at him, and grabbing her chest.  
“What? It’s a corset, you don’t need both.” He reasoned, a smile playing over his lips as his hands fell away. “All done.”  
She sighed, and pulled the simple cotton bra out of the bodice and tossed it to her other clothes. She ignored his smirk and turned, stalking pridefully to the standing mirror in the corner of his room, to inspect her appearance. It fit perfectly, the corset neither loose, nor too tight. It pressed her cleavage together the same as the other, the sweetheart neckline enhancing the natural shape of them. The skirt came to just below the curve of her buttocks, if she bent at all, it would reveal her underpants.  
“Too short?” He asked, standing next to her, and watching her tug self-consciously at the hem.  
“A bit.” She agreed. He pulled his wand out and drug it from her hip to her thigh, and under her scrutinizing gaze, the hem unrolled an inch and restitched itself, giving her the barest addition of cover.  
“Better?” He asked, tucking his wand back in his pocket.  
“Not really.” She grumbled, tugging at it again, only resulting in revealing more of her breasts. She thought back to the way he’d played with his shirt, tugging it from her chest to her hips, doing the exact thing this dress was doing now. If she’d harbored any doubt about him having it designed for her, there was none now.  
“Here, this might help, put your arms back like this.” He took one wrist and gently guided it behind her back, and she followed with the other one, curious how THIS could possibly help. She felt the cool leather circle her wrists, and tighten instantly, too fast for her to evade, the jerk of her arms meeting resistance as her wrists were secured to the back of the bodice.  
He met her eyes in the mirror with a mischievous smile.  
“You wanted to know what the trick was? This is it.” He was grinning at his obvious triumph, and she glared, irritated by the trap.  
“Let me out of this, Malfoy.” She demanded, but he stepped away, reopened the desk drawer, and pulled out another strip of leather. She recognized it as a collar instantly, and backed away, stumbling to keep her balance without the use of her arms.  
“Now, Granger, this is how the game is played. All that dress does is bind your arms. THIS, does the rest. It won’t close without your permission, but it won’t come off without mine. So, you have to agree to let me put it on you, and then convince me you deserve to have it taken off again.”  
“I don’t want it on at all!” She snapped as he stepped toward her. She could kick him, she supposed, but she might fall over. Then he’d be looming over her with a wand. She kept her feet firmly planted on the ground.  
“Don’t you want to see what the completed outfit looks like on you?” He trailed his fingers along her upper arm, turning her to face the mirror again. He leaned into her side and whispered in her ear, “Don’t you want to see what I imagine when I look at you?”  
Her heart stuttered, and her breath faltered, her eyes skimming down her own body, trying to see it as he would. Slim curves accentuated by black leather, obscene cleavage that threatened to spill out, a skirt that was riding up, revealing smooth, shapely legs. If she was honest with herself, she DID want to see it with the collar, her curiosity insatiable after his whispered words. What did she look like in Draco Malfoy’s imagination? Was she really this sexy to him?  
His hand had circled around her back, his arm resting just below hers as his fingers wrapped around the other side of her, and his eyes flashed to hers in the glass, making sure she was watching, taking in how she looked with herself half-bound, his hand resting possessively on her hip.  
“Come on, Granger. Play with me?” he leaned in slowly and brushed her hair from her shoulder, pressing his lips to her bare skin, trailing hot kisses up her neck at a leisurely pace.  
“Are you going to force me to have sex with you?” She asked bluntly, feeling the arousal already pooling in her belly.  
“Do you want me to?” He murmured, squeezing her hip as he nibbled at her ear and nuzzled her jaw.  
“No.” She replied with half the conviction she’d meant to have. She could feel him pressing into her back, and it was making a very convincing argument.  
“Do you want me to otherwise coerce you into fucking me?” He asked, his voice leading, and she knew what he was expecting. He expected her to say ‘no’, so he could reply ‘then I won’t.’ Just like he had the other night, he would stop where she wanted, respect her boundaries, and only push so far.  
“Maybe.” She mumbled, her face burning, her eyes dropping to his hand on her side, so she wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes as he looked up.  
“Would you like to try the collar on, and see where things go?” He offered, holding up the piece in question.  
“Maybe.” She repeated, her face darkening.  
“I need a ‘yes’, Granger.” He breathed into her ear, rubbing his nose up and down the curve. Her lips were dry, and her voice was barely a whisper past them.  
“...Yes.”  
He pressed the leather to her throat gently, and it circled around her nape, securing with a cold silver buckle beneath her chin.  
“Good girl.” Draco smiled cheerfully at her. She glared at him addressing her like a pet, but said nothing as he turned and stalked back toward the desk once more. Her eyes followed him for a moment before they were drawn back to the mirror. She turned slightly, inspecting herself in the deviant costume. She looked like an absolute pervert, the dark leather making her skin seem nearly white in contrast, and her curves making it gleam in the dim light, accentuating the way she was shaped. The collar was a thick black strip against the pale expanse of skin from her face to her breasts, making her feel both overdressed, and completely uncovered.  
“One last touch.” Draco was next to her again, grinning mischievously. He had ahold of the collar before she could back away, and she tried futilely to see what he was doing, but heard only the soft clinking of more metal until he moved aside, so she could see herself in the mirror once more.  
“What is it?” She asked, taking a step closer to inspect the little silver disk hanging from the buckle. “Is that… Did you put a tag on me!? What does it say?” She demanded, feeling furious at his continued regard of her as an animal. She moved closer to the mirror, trying to read the engraving. He pulled her away by the arm, keeping her from reading it, his lips still twisted up in a smirk.  
“Is there anything it could say that wouldn’t anger you?” He asked rhetorically, flicking it with his finger to make it jingle again. “Anyway, now that you’re all dressed, we can get on with things.” His smirk widened, and she felt her stomach lurch. That grin did not bode well. Had she misplaced her trust in him one too many times? No one had seen her go up tonight, so no one would know where she was.  
“Let me go.” She demanded, yanking at her arms, and glaring at him in an attempt to hide her sudden fear. He pulled out his wand, and she stumbled backward, eyeing it warily. “You wouldn’t dare…”  
“Come here, Granger, and I’ll show you what bit of magic the collar does.” He cajoled, twirling his wand idly between his fingers, waiting for her to obey. She hesitated, eying the door, wondering if she’d prefer to try getting out herself, possibly to her own eternal shame if anyone else saw her dress, or if it was stupid of her to trust him. She was practically defenseless, and he wasn’t cursing her. He wasn’t forcing her to her knees. He was asking her to let him demonstrate more of the leather’s magic. Wasn’t that proof that he wasn’t going to hurt her?  
She took two steps toward him, and he waited patiently for her to come closer, saying nothing as he watched her tiptoe to him, step by cautious step. She stopped in front of him, trying not to look fearful or worried. He tapped his wand to the collar three times, and she had time only to gasp as the magic tingled across her skin, and the collar seemed to duplicate, three different tendrils of thick leather stretched away from her neck, the first snapping off to secure itself around her face, covering her mouth, and cutting her gasp off, keeping her from voicing any further displeasure as the two other tendrils fell down her legs, wrapping around her knees and ankles, pulling them together, and pulling her off balance as she was trussed up.  
She let out an involuntary squeal of panic as she fell backward. She closed her eyes, bracing for the impact, and felt only arms catching her, sweeping her into the air, and cradling her to a warm chest.  
She opened her eyes and looked up into the stormy eyes of both her savior, and her imprisoner. She offered him another irritated glare, and wiggled, making muffled protests. One arm was under her knees, the other was under her back, and she felt totally helpless as he ignored her wordless complaints, and carried her the few steps to his large bed.  
“Hush, Granger. I’m not taking it off, so you might as well stop trying to scold me.” He advised as he set her gently atop the blankets, and climbed on top of her. He straddled her hips, pinning her down with ease, and leaned over her, staring down at her bound and gagged form.  
“I bet you’re terrified right now.” He murmured, stroking a knuckle across her temple. “Have you ever been this powerless before, Granger? Awake, aware, and completely defenseless…”  
She struggled underneath him, nearly managing to knock him off her, to prove that she wasn’t powerless. She was never powerless. Even as he aimed his wand at her again, settled more of his weight to keep her pinned, and smirked evilly down at her, she didn’t dare let him think her powerless.  
“There’s no reason for you to be afraid, Granger. No cause for you to struggle, or fight me. You know I’m not going to hurt you.” He murmured, trailing the tip of his wand along her breasts, and up her chest to the collar. He tapped it once, and tingles shot out of it, trailing down the path his wand had just traced, catching her off guard with the enjoyable sensation.  
He began drawing another pattern with his wand, this time along her belly, the slow movements familiar, but strange. It took her a moment to realize he was spelling out words across her abdomen, writing something invisible through the corset that she couldn’t properly feel.  
“MmmMm?” She tried to ask what he was writing through the strip of leather that covered her mouth, and though it came out as nothing more than humming, he seemed to understand.  
“Shall I start over, so you can try to figure it out?” He gave a tap of his wand to the corset, pausing her answer with another shock of trailing heat. It almost tickled, but when it stopped, she nodded, curious what on earth he’d want to write on her, and taking a moment to look down at her chest, to see if his patterns left marks. Nothing on her chest indicated that he’d done any magic, and as he touched the tip of his wand back to the leather, she lowered her eyes further, watching as he drew the first letter, and pulled his wand away before starting the second. O? D, maybe? Was he writing for her, or for himself? Were the letters upside down? Capitalized? The second was lines and curves, the third was all straight lines, maybe and A or an H, she thought. She couldn’t decide, and he was already on the fourth letter, a half circle, a C, and he was writing for himself! So she needed to turn them around. As he drew a circle slowly, she thought of the first few. D-R-A-C-O-, but he was still going, a short vertical line, and a curvy S. ‘Draco’s’. Of course he’d spell that on her. He tapped his wand again, and lit the possessive noun with feeling, letting her feel each letter prickle across her stomach.  
“Easy enough? Want something more difficult?” He proposed, a challenge in his voice. She nodded, glad for a moment that she was unable to speak. She wasn’t even sure what she would’ve been expected to SAY to him writing his name on her.  
His lips twitched sadistically, and he was scrawling a new pattern across her cleavage, too close for her to see properly, and too fast for her to make out more than a few letters. She hummed that he was going too fast, but he just grinned, and tapped the top of her breast, letting the tickling sensation curl over her skin once more, just as fast as he’d written, making whatever he’d scrawled indecipherable.  
She glared up at him for his foul play, and he let out a chuckle, leaning close to her face.  
“Want me to spell out what this says?” He flicked the silver tag, purposefully riling her. She growled at him, but nodded all the same, hoping he’d play this one a bit more fair. If she was going to wear it, she needed to know what it said about her. What he thought of her.  
He began spelling, and she nearly sighed with relief as he wrote slowly and distinctly, spelling out the first familiar word, and paused before he wrote the second, shorter word.  
‘Draco’s pet.’  
She gawked up at him, unsure whether she was more angry, or more stunned at his ballsy ploy. Again, with the animal analogy, she hummed in dissatisfaction, and wriggled underneath him, expressing her anger.  
“You don’t like it?”  
“MM!”  
“But look at you. You’ve got my collar on. I’m playing with you, taking care of you. What else would you call yourself?” He asked saucily, and leaned in once more, bracing his hands on either side of her shoulders as he bent his head next to hers to whisper in her ear. “Though, I suppose most people don’t want to fuck their pets.”  
She went still underneath him, suddenly aware of every bare inch of skin, and how her upset wiggling might be arousing to him. His words were no big surprise, it was fairly obvious last week that he’d like to have sex with her, but hearing him say it aloud was shocking, and sent a surprising amount of heat directly to her knickers. She could recall with perfect clarity the last time he’d had such an urge. The way he’d touched her, kissed her, made her writhe, and pant, and want more.  
“I love that look in your eyes.” He was leaning back up, staring into her chocolatey eyes with appreciation, “The look that says you want me, too.”  
She squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze, and turned her face away, her cheeks blazing with mortification. Had she really been looking at him like he said? With the heat flooding her, it wasn’t hard to believe. He took the opportunity of her turned head to kiss his way along her neck, down her collarbone, and back to her ear. She let her eyes fall closed and her thoughts fade, simply enjoying the feeling of his lips on her, since she couldn’t do much else, anyway. His tongue was damp, and left a quickly cooling trail along her throat. His head dipped lower, his lips making their way down her chest, over the swell of each breast, and his legs shuffled backward, allowing him to sit on her thighs, and bring his hands down to her hips as he finally raised his head.  
“Are you still wearing your knickers?” His voice was low, inquisitive, and she couldn’t stop her head from nodding up and down in answer, despite how random the question seemed. His hands were sliding up her thighs, pushing the skirt up at a torturously slow pace. “They don’t really go with the dress, do they?” His tone was beguiling, and she felt her head shaking as she remembered what she wore. The light green cotton really didn’t match the leather at all. His fingers slid underneath the bunched skirt, finding the fabric, and looping around the sides, pulling them down just as slowly, his eyes fixed on hers with every unhurried movement. She turned her face from him again, not able to meet those stormy orbs as he took off her last piece of normal clothing.  
“Lift your hips for me, pet.” He ordered quietly, sitting up so she could push upward. She did as he asked, and felt the underwear slip down her thighs unhindered, aided along by her own movement. How pliable she’d become after just a few touches! She whined in discomfort and squeezed her thighs tighter together, halting the removal. To her surprise, he let them go, leaving them exposed beneath the short leather skirt. She relaxed a bit, and stared down at him defiantly. She wasn’t his pet, and he wasn’t going to make her an easy lay with just a few kisses.  
“The collar has one more surprise. Want to see what it is?” He was grinning wickedly again, and she kept her head very still, not wanting to agree on accident. She deepened her frown, and he laughed softly. “You’ll love it, I promise.”  
She shrugged as best she could, giving him the go-ahead without actually agreeing that she was curious. He swung his leg over her, no longer straddling her thighs, but lied down next to her, making himself comfortable as he propped his head up to be able to watch her, and readied his wand above her throat.  
“Ready? Take a deep breath.” He suggested. She looked at him with worry, but immediately filled her lungs. He gently tapped the leather, and a loud moan filled the room. The large breath she’d taken was released with pure ecstasy, as pleasure shot from the collar straight through her breasts, circling her nipples, and down her stomach to lap in waves at her womanhood. Wave after wave washed over her, powerful and relentless. She felt her back arching, her muscles tensing as she reached a very quick climax.  
She could hear her own voice still whimpering as she regained her senses, her muscles twitching with overstimulation as the pleasure kept assaulting her body, and then, he was looming over her, the pleasure halted as he tapped his wand to the collar, and she was panting, sweaty, and sated.  
“I promised you’d love it.” He boasted, dropping a kiss to her sweat-slicked forehead, and grinning widely at his obvious victory. “Imagine, though, Granger: that was just a fraction. A light sampling of what you could feel.”  
She stared up at him with no small trace of horror. That was ‘small’? How much more was there? What exactly would ‘all’ feel like? His smile only widened at the anxious look on her face.  
“Do you remember what my fingers felt like inside you? How much better my mouth was? The magic in that leather has NOTHING on me, Granger.” He vowed, licking his lips pointedly. She did remember, and at the mention of it, her orgasm suddenly felt hollow. She was only half-sated, and she wanted more. Her center was still aching, and she felt like an absolute pervert as she realized she wanted something INSIDE her.  
As she was thrown into desire all over again, and back into the memory, he slid down her, his fingertips skimming the leather, and then the bare skin of her thighs. He took hold of her legs, and tapped his wand gently to the strap that held her knees together, making it vanish into thin air. She realized just what he was doing as he slid her knickers to her ankles, and she clamped her knees together, a moment too late to stop him, but held them firmly, to keep him from getting between her legs.  
He smirked devilishly up at her, and she once again thought about kicking him. She hated that his teasing was making her want him even more. When he lowered his face to her legs, she hummed a muffled question, but he didn’t answer, simply gripped the back of her knee, and kissed just above the joint. She let her eyes fall closed as he continued, kissing his way slowly up her thigh, his hand sliding up the back as his lips caressed her over and over. She was so lost in the warmth of his mouth, she didn’t even notice the discreet tap he gave her ankles, or the way her legs were spreading easily under his ministrations, inviting him right to their apex.  
When his kisses finally fell to her sex, she groaned through the gag, and risked a peek down at him. His blond crown was nestled between her thighs, his mouth pressed into her, and his eyes were closed, like she was a treat to be savored. His eyes popped open, as if he knew she was watching, and caught her gaze in a heartbeat, molten silver making her squirm ashamedly. She squeezed her eyes closed, unable to linger on that gaze, and tried to enjoy the sensations his tongue was creating, without thinking too hard about him WATCHING her enjoy it. When the soft prodding of his fingers joined the feeling, she nearly sighed with relief, glad that he seemed to know what she wanted most. He slid them in and out of her slowly, his lips suckling gently, his tongue flicking expertly, and she felt another climax on the rise.  
Before she could get too close, he pulled away, and she growled wordlessly at him, her eyes popping open to glare down at his eager face.  
“Patient, pet…” He murmured, pressing another swift kiss to her thigh as he sat up, and pulled his shirt off, not bothering to unbutton it more than necessary to pull it over his head. Hermione watched the black fabric sail over the edge of the bed, and watched silently as he undid his belt, and trousers, sliding them off, and leaving him in only his boxers. She stayed very still, pretending that he wouldn’t notice her scrutiny if she didn’t move. But notice he did, watching her stare at him, her eyes filled with lust. She waited for him to remove his boxers too, positive that this was the moment he would end the pretense, and simply have his way with her.  
She was ready to reluctantly enjoy him pushing her that far, ready to be furious with him afterward, and was completely surprised when he left that single article of clothing on, and leaned over her, letting one of his hands skim her thigh as he bent his head to kiss her cleavage, collarbone, and jaw. She felt a sharp stab of disappointment, but didn’t dare protest. If he knew exactly how much she wanted it, she’d be mortified.  
“I can see the disappointment in your eyes. Do you really to me to shag you that badly? Are you just BURNING with the need to have me inside you?” He ignored the vehement shaking of her head, looped a finger around her collar, and pulled her straight up into a sitting position, keeping her stable with his hands holding her upper arms.  
“You don’t want me to fuck you, you just want me to keep getting you off?” He murmured vulgarly into her ear, sliding his hips across her thighs, letting his covered erection rub against her corset-clad stomach. She glared at him, not wanting to admit that she’d like either option, but her cheeks flushed a dark red, betraying her shameful desires.  
“Alright, I think we can work something out…” He granted, smiling benevolently down at her. He carefully directed her to trade places with him, helping her straddle him without falling, while he lied back, keeping his hands on her hips. She stared down at him for several moments, taking in his reclining torso, the silver flame flickering in his eyes as he, too, looked at her atop him. With her thighs covering his hips, it looked as though he was nude, and Hermione didn’t miss that in this new position, the leather skirt that had been slowly riding up was doing absolutely nothing to hide her completely bare privates. Her privates that were dangerously close to his.  
“Sit back.” He pressed his thumbs into her abdomen, guiding her into a sitting position, and he bit his lip hungrily as her sex pressed into his boxers. She could feel the warmth of his erection, the stiffness of it pressing along her soft folds. “Move your hips back and forth, and pleasure yourself.” He encouraged, letting his hands slide to her thighs, so she could move unhindered. She felt her face heating to a flaming red once again, and hesitated, staring down at him, debating with herself.  
She wanted the orgasm he’d denied her, he wanted gratification as well. She knew that this position wouldn’t give her the penetrating pleasure she wanted, but she’d denied wanting to have sex, so… wasn’t this the best alternative he could offer that would please both of them? With her hands still secured behind her back, she couldn’t remove his boxers for him. With her mouth covered by leather, she couldn’t tell him she was just ashamed to admit she’d be okay with more.  
She tilted her hips slowly, closing her eyes to the piercing grey gaze that watched her, submerging herself into a dark world of touch and sound. She dragged her hips back and forth over his, rubbing her mound against the hardness of his shaft. She could hear the soft sounds of his breathing, the small gasps he gave in pleasure, she soft rustle of sheets as she moved. She could feel his fingers dig into her flesh a bit when he particularly enjoyed her ministrations, and she could feel the way his pelvis tilted into the motions, creating more friction.  
She cracked her eyelids open, and peeked down at him, taking even more pleasure in the sight of him so enthralled. His expression was one of pure bliss, his eyes were flickering up and down her form, like he couldn’t choose which part of her he wanted to look at most. He stared at her face a moment, then her heaving breasts, then her rocking hips, and where they were pressed together, then back to her face. She could feel her own wetness soaking his underwear, but couldn’t summon more than a passing remorse for them. She was enjoying herself too much to care about the state of his pants, but was a little disappointed when he didn’t seem equally careless.  
“Hold on a moment, let me get these out of the way…” He grunted, his hands slipping beneath her, to push the fabric down. She held herself precariously over him as he shimmied the boxer shorts down, and as soon as his hands were out of the way, she retook her position, glad to not be balancing without use of her arms any longer. The feel of his bare skin rubbing hers was nearly intoxicating, the thought that nothing now separated them was heady, and she let her eyes stay open, staring down at what she could see of his cock as she slid over it, revealing bits of it at a time.  
She felt licentious, watching herself ride him in such a fashion, her heart racing at the thought of being so very close to losing her virginity, but still just this side of innocent. She chanced a glance up to Draco’s face, and saw him watching the movement with just as much fascination as she had been. His bottom lip was slipping from between his teeth, where he’d been biting it, his eyebrows were pulled together in an intense concentration. She watched his hand slip between their bodies once more, and lifted her hips as his knuckles brushed her, and he gripped himself. She sat back a bit, so she could see him holding the base of his shaft, and presenting it upright, holding it there, waiting. His eyes were locked on her face now, and she looked from his stormy grey eyes to the offered phallus. He was leaving it up to her just how far she wanted to go. She could barely hear her own breathing through her heartbeat, and the rush of adrenaline thrilled through her veins with every pulse.  
She moved back into place, and held herself there a moment, searching his eyes as she held herself on the brink of making her decision. He waited, holding himself in place, his eyes searching hers in return, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, his chest rising quickly with each hurried breath. He was eager, a bit nervous, and uncomplaining of her hesitation.  
“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.” He whispered, his voice sounding a bit choked as he noted her own nerves.  
“MmM.” She hummed in understanding, nodding her head once. It was his considerate tone that made up her mind. She let her knees slip apart, bringing her core down over him, slowly taking in the feel of his cock filling her. The pain she’d expected was a mere mild discomfort of feeling stretched, and over so quickly she was left with only the sensation of fullness, and the exhilarating knowledge of what she’d just done. Draco, it seemed, couldn’t decide whether to give in, and close his eyes to fully enjoy the heat of her, or to keep them pried open, and watch as he disappeared inside her.  
She paused, and slid back up, testing the motion, and watching his head fall back as his hands gripped her hips. He looked almost tortured, and she slid back down, enjoying the simple power she seemed to hold over him. It was much more filling than his fingers had been, and every movement she made made her very aware that he was INSIDE her.  
She shifted her hips a few more times, letting out her own groan of pleasure. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed her eyes until a movement caused her to open them again. He was sitting up slightly, reaching for his wand, his eyes locked on her with passion as he gave two sharp taps to her corset with the wooden tip. He let the wand slip out of his fingers as he moved his palm back to her bared skin, and she felt the straps holding her arms and mouth evaporate. With her mouth free, she pulled in deeper breaths, making quiet pants of enjoyments as her lungs tried to keep up with her movement. She pulled her hands forward, and braced them on his chest, using his body as leverage to move her hips in a wider arc.  
She’d been positive that when he released her bondage, she’d shout at him, get angry with him trussing her up in the first place, but all she found she wanted to do was wring every ounce of pleasure from him she possibly could. She leaned over him, taking advantage of her uncovered lips to kiss him, letting her chest rest against his as she let her hands slide into his hair, gripping him firmly as she gratified herself. He kissed her back just as ardently, his tongue fighting with hers, his hips thrusting up into her as she came down, his hands circling to pull her skirt completely up, and grip her bum. He sat up again, pulling her with him, never breaking the kiss as he began tugging at the strings that held the magical leather onto her. Faster than she’d have thought possible, he was pulling it over her head, leaving her just as naked as him, and totally bare for his hands to explore. His hands fondled her bare breasts briefly, and then he grabbed her by the waist, and rolled her onto her back.  
She instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips, her arms around his shoulders, and let out an involuntary squeal of surprise, which he gave a small chuckle at, and kissed away any words she might have formed, driving his hips into her with quick snapping force. Her surprise quickly turned to pure thoughtless bliss as she clung to him, her hips still moving against his, her breathing coming in shorter bursts than ever, her body moving on it’s own, her mind a lustful pile of mush against the onslaught.  
She reached her climax swiftly, tensing around him, her mewling moans echoing off the walls, her nails digging into his shoulders as he pulled out, and rubbed his cock against the sensitive nub of her womanhood, bringing her to another shaking orgasm as he came across her abdomen.  
They both stilled, trying to catch their breath, shaky, and covered in sweat, and Hermione’s thoughts finally trickled back into her head. She could smell the sweat, the sex, lingering scent of leather, and she found it enjoyable. She could feel tiny trails of sweat sliding down her skin, she could feel the heat between their bodies like a sauna, and she could hear his breath heaving near her ear. He leaned up on shaky arms and smiled down at her, his face, neck, and chest flushed, his grey eyes twinkling dimly with emotion as his gaze traced her features.  
“That’s… not at all what I thought it would be like.” Hermione managed to croak, thinking back to her virginal fantasies of making love, slow, aware, and stingingly painful for her.  
“Better or- wait… You mean, this was your first…?” He looked a bit horrified, and then possessively pleased, and then worried. “Are you alright?”  
“Just fine. It didn’t hurt at all, actually.” She said, grinning, feeling as though it were an accomplishment to be proud of. She’d heard too many women describe how very unpleasant it had been for them, and was glad it hadn’t been that way for her.  
“Oh, that was probably the dress. It’s spelled to leech my magic to heal any of your pain or discomfort. I added that bit myself, so your arms wouldn’t go numb behind your back so long.” He panted, rolling to the side, but keeping one leg draped over hers, letting his fingers trail along one of her shoulders intimately. She basked in the gentle touch, and the thoughtfulness of his charm, the gentle way his eyes were skimming her.  
“How did it compare to your fantasies, then, Granger?” He asked curiously, brushing a few sweat-slicked strands of hair from her forehead.  
“...It was much more intense.” She answered, feeling strange thinking about just how blank her mind had gone, how very exhausting the motions had been. Her eyes wanted to droop shut, and her muscles felt as though she’d have trouble leaving his side. “Much more taxing. I should probably get to bed…”  
“You could sleep here.” He sounded playful, but one look at him and she could see the invitation was very real. He looked in just as big a rush to move as she felt. His head was drooping to the pillow next to hers, his hand had gone still, his arm resting across her ribs. It WOULD be easy for them to just drift off, heedless of consequence.  
“I could, but I’d have to walk back to my own room in the morning, past dozens of judgemental stares.” She yawned, and forced herself to sit up, feeling the sweat on her skin already beginning to cool, and leave her chilly.  
“Bah, not dozens. Maybe four if you sleep in. You know you’re usually the first one awake.” He mumbled, rolling into a sitting position of his own, letting his fingers trail up her back.  
“Only because I hardly sleep in the first place.” She argued, not wanting to admit that she’d likely sleep like the dead tonight. He already seemed pleased enough with himself.  
“Me too.” He admitted, his voice quiet, more solemn. She looked back at him, seeing the dark shadow of the war on his face, the heaviness with which his hand dropped back to the bed. Silver eyes met hers, and she was shaken by just how sincere he looked. “Please stay?”  
She stared into the grey depths of his soul for several minutes, thinking over what they’d just shared, the vulnerability he was showing. If she left, he’d likely never offer this openness again, and she could pretend it had never happened, pretend she still distrusted him.  
“I’ll need something to sleep in.” She surrendered, bringing her knees to her chest, covering the majority of her nakedness.  
“Well, I’ve got a whole bed you can sleep in.” He joked, his smile lighting up his face in a way she’d never seen. It wasn’t a smirk, and it had no hidden intentions, simply playful delight.  
“Haha, very funny.” She rolled her eyes at him, but he was already sliding his legs under the blanket, without bothering to find even any shorts.  
“You’ve never slept naked?” He asked, tugging the covers over her, as well. She sighed, and flopped back onto the pillow, giving in to his indecency.  
“No, I haven’t.” She answered, feeling rather stiff as he shuffled, getting comfortable.  
“Well, tonight’s a night for all sorts of new experiences, isn’t it?” he bantered, sliding his hand casually over her stomach. “Come here.”  
She scooted against him, allowing him to pull her back against his front, and secretly enjoying how he buried his face in her hair, and left his arm wrapped just under her breasts, his legs spooning hers. It was perfectly warm, and just what she didn’t know she wanted, until she was in position, her head resting comfortably on a plush pillow, her mind already trying to drift into dreams.  
“Goodnight, pet.” His voice drifted quietly over her head, and she heaved a deep sigh of contentment, not having the energy to get upset over the nickname.  
“Goodnight, Draco.” She replied, half-asleep, comfy, and warm.  
“I thought we weren’t friends?” He teased, also sounding on the brink of unconsciousness.  
“Of course we’re not.” She hummed back sarcastically, a small smile tilting up her lips as she fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the formatting issues between the first and second chapter, there were... copying complications...

**Author's Note:**

> The rough idea for this was taken from the first kinky encounter in 'Nana to Kaoru', popular BDSM RomCom Manga!


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